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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28267245">Eight Squares Between</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_writes/pseuds/b_writes'>b_writes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Queen's Gambit (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cheating, F/M, Falling In Love, Older Man/Younger Woman, Post episode 1x7: end game, Slow Burn, Sort of? - Freeform, emotional cheating, it's about the longing(tm), pride and prejudice (2003) Hand Flex type beat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:01:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,415</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28267245</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_writes/pseuds/b_writes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You should have been born Russian.” How can he tell her this is an i love you? How can he tell her what this means. This is his confession that he wishes for a different life.</p><p>Honestly, as I say with all my work, please don't read this. It's garbage.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Vasily Borgov/Beth Harmon, Vasya Borgov/Liza Harmon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>112</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Eight Squares Between</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i wrote this when i first watched the show because i was having a mental breakdown about it and how it triggered some personalmente stuff. then i edited it after having read some other borgov/beth fics. i think i made it my own, but i also think thefudge's works (please go read them, they’re unbelievable) were influential and maybe some others.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Vasily Borgov had spent years defending his title. Though he would never tire of the game, at times he did tire of his opponents. Uninspired, arrogant, timid. Beth Harmon was none of these things. She breathed life back into the game that he thought had been lost.</p><p class="p1">Vasily has felt the weight of her gaze so many times, it’s become comfortable. By the time they’re sitting across from one another in Moscow, he should be used to it. He’s not. Or perhaps, it’s all different this time. When he grabbed the pieces, they were not his soldiers, simply sacrifices to her. Every time he took one of her pawns he felt the warmth of her still lingering. When he moved his own knight he watched her hands. Over that 8 square, 53cm board, they overlapped hundreds of times but distantly. Always just far enough away. They didn’t touch until he handed her his king and Vasily could scarcely breathe at the soft skin of her fingertips.</p><p class="p1">It’s easy to clap for her. She’s won spectacularly. He finds himself proud of this woman, this Liza Harmon that played the best chess he’s ever seen. She leaves quickly. So quickly, he nearly misses the chance to invite her to congratulatory dinner. She’s a little surprised, that much is clear. She accepts.</p><p class="p1">…</p><p class="p1">At first, it’s quiet. Then, suddenly, it’s anything but. Here, in this crowded restaurant, every movement and look feels intimate. She talks about Scheibel and Jolene. He talks about his mother and Luchenko. Every word is personal. He was never a talkative man but in her presence it is as though his words are an endless river. Perhaps this his how it feels to drown.</p><p class="p1">Vasily liked vodka, he liked wine. He did not have a problem and did not feel the need to stop. Liza seemed to be in better control by now, not staring too long when her agent had held a drink while next to her. Perhaps she would not have minded if he had a glass himself as they dined. Regardless, he ordered coffee. So as not to make her uncomfortable, he thought. Or maybe he was already buzzing from her proximity.</p><p class="p1">He has her file in the third drawer on the left of his desk at home. It’s very small. Partly a testament to her age, partly because it seems she’s not done much living outside the chess board. The more he talks to her the more some small part of him wonders at the true skill of the agents who had watched her. For the first time he questions his government’s ability to spy on their enemies. He could fill that folder with information on Liza Harmon.</p><p class="p1">He wonders when she became Liza in his mind. Elizabeth on her file, Beth in the papers, Beth when she shakes hands, Beth to that American he beat years ago. But Liza when her gaze seeps into his skin like the warmth of the sun. Liza when her eyes teared up in paris. Liza when he imagines playing her all alone.</p><p class="p1">When the officers ask what they talked about, he tells them of her considerable skill at the game and replays her conversation in his head, alone. He studies her movements and decides with some trepidation she is no longer the enemy.</p><p class="p1">…</p><p class="p1">She stays for a while. She tells the agent that she wants to learn more about the Russians. Tells him perhaps she’ll be able to find a foothold here for them. She lies.</p><p class="p1">She sees Borgov again not a full day after their dinner. She’s played chess in the park a good bit of the day and managed to keep the conversation with the agent brief. When the plans were finalized, she only hesitates a moment before she picks up the phone and calls him.</p><p class="p1">“<em>I’m staying in Moscow for a few more days.</em>”</p><p class="p1">A pause. “<em>A wonderful idea. Will you be seeing the park?</em>”</p><p class="p1">“<em>I think that would be nice.</em>”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Would you like me to accompany you?</em>”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Yes.</em>”</p><p class="p1">With that, they agreed to meet at Gorky Park. She was still wearing her white outfit and Borgov smiled that genuine smile when he saw it. “<em>The queen.</em>”</p><p class="p1">He took her arm easily and they began to walk side by side. At his gaze she felt unsettled. At his touch positively unhinged. It was a battle in and of itself to keep her voice even.</p><p class="p1">“<em>My mother was a math genius.</em>” The words are loud in the silence, though she didn’t speak above a whisper. It’s easy in this space with him. The world is quiet here. “<em>She published proofs and books on complicated problems. She was very talented. And smart.</em>”</p><p class="p1">“<em>I wonder, Liza, do you think genius is inherited?</em>” His question does not stifle like some can. His question comes from a child that was trained to be exceptional. Her answer will have no strings.</p><p class="p1">“<em>I hope not.</em>” A secret; “<em>I think if she gave me her genius she will have given me her madness too.</em>” It’s hard, bringing a voice to the dark clouds that have followed her since the first time she beat Scheibel. How terrifying it is for this man to hear these most personal thoughts. How exciting as well.</p><p class="p1">He does not falter at this and she wonders what he fears. What haunts Vasily Borgov? Suddenly she realizes what he called her. “<em>Liza?</em>”</p><p class="p1">At this, he does turn in surprise. “<em>Does it offend?</em>” His eyebrows furrow up in a new picture, one of concern that perhaps he overstepped and confusion too. Beth wonders if he could ever overstep. What lines would she draw for him?</p><p class="p1">“<em>No, no. I’ve heard that name only once. A man in the park this morning. It feels new. Like a new beginning.</em>” She tries not to fixate on the warmth of his breath on her nose and cheeks. He watches her so intently she doesn’t think she’s ever really been seen before. “<em>I like it.</em>”</p><p class="p1">He nods and turns to keep walking. What a striking image this is, she thinks. The tall, powerful man so at home in this beautiful country. She has to stop him. “<em>But what do I call you? I cannot call you Borgov if you call me Liza.</em>” She tries to keep her tone as teasing and light as possible even as she silently begs him to let her into his world. She begs for a part of him she should never have.</p><p class="p1">He gives. “<em>Vasya. You can call me Vasya.</em>”</p><p class="p1">She tries the name on her tongue and likes how it tastes. “<em>Vasya,</em>” she prays into the frozen air.</p><p class="p1">He watches her for a moment too, this fraction of time suspended just for them. She knows this is greedy. Every inch of his face that she memorizes is stolen.</p><p class="p1">They turn and continue walking.</p><p class="p1">…</p><p class="p1">He rarely drank anymore. Some thought screamed at him beneath his consciousness. He ignored it. He remained determinedly unaware of the actual thought, achingly aware of its presence. He spotted a few dancers practicing and became abruptly focused on her proximity. She had nearly collided with him when he stopped to point them out. The thought, that ever-present thought, suddenly became crystal clear. This close, he could feel the warmth of her breaths on his shoulder and the smell of the coffee she drank before. He wondered if she tasted like coffee. He would likely taste like the tea he had had instead. But not vodka. Not for her.</p><p class="p1">…</p><p class="p1">When they play chess, they don’t play at his house or her hotel. They play in a tucked away restaurant where nobody knows them or perhaps they are too drunk to care. He bristles when the waiter assumes he wants alcohol but Liza doesn’t flinch. He drinks three cups of tea. She plays chess so beautifully he’s breathless.</p><p class="p1">He loves his wife, his son. They are his family and mean so much to him. But chess, chess is everything. Vasily’s god is in wooden pieces, a king with a crown, a bishop with a hat, the scratch of a pencil jotting down moves and ticking of the clock. Most importantly, the queen. When the time starts, the world stops. Liza is someone he understands so viscerally it feels deeper than the love he has for his wife. On the board, they are one.</p><p class="p1">She laughs long and loud when he jokes with her about Georgi’s serious face.</p><p class="p1">She does not look up when she says so easily, “<em>he looks up to you.</em>” She keeps scanning the board and moves her rook. In this chaos she is at home. She holds no tension. She simply lounges in her seat and drinks her water, finally meeting his gaze when he shows no sign of moving.</p><p class="p1">“<em>You should have been born Russian.</em>” How can he tell her this is an i love you? How can he tell her what this means. This is his confession that he wishes for a different life.</p><p class="p1">He’s learning her many faces. This is one of his favorites. Her eyes have turned soft and her mouth lilts upward. Perhaps she is a mind reader. Perhaps she knows what he cannot say. “<em>Is my Russian really that good?</em>” They laugh. She speaks his language with ease and fluidity though somewhat stiffened by the textbook education rather than the practical. It is with no small satisfaction that he notes she’s adopted some of the more casual phrases and idiosyncrasies in her conversations with him. “<em>It’s your move, Vasya.</em>”</p><p class="p1">When he was briefed on her impending arrival, the agent mentioned that she had the money from a church organization but ultimately declined their offer. She had asked of her friends instead of lying for that god. Could it be that she too finds her salvation between pawns instead of pews? He moves his rook.</p><p class="p1">“<em>I feel at home here. My mother, she gave me that for a time, but this place feels different. With her gone, her house is just that; a house. I have friends, family in America. But here I feel calm. I wish…</em>” Liza looks a little sad. “<em>Perhaps I wish I were Russian as well.</em>”</p><p class="p1">Vasya–he is only Vasya now–finds that in that moment he wants nothing more than to spare her from sadness forever. She is this innocent looking thing, her eyes like a window straight to her soul. That is how she devours them, he decides. Beth Harmon’s eyes pull her opponents in and then once they think they understand her she traps them. Beth would take this moment to capture him on the board. Liza’s hand moves not to the piece but to her watch, the one with a shattered face.</p><p class="p1">“<em>I heard about your mother. I’m very sorry. I know what it is to lose one mother but not two.</em>”</p><p class="p1">At this, she looked up fast. “<em>I never–</em>“ she shook her head. “<em>Losing my mother and going to the orphanage, it was everything. I never thought that my adopted family would replace her. But between the piano, chess, and being alone in that house, things got easier. When she died too I felt like I’d been abandoned once again. I was so alone. And you, you were only a child when your mother died too. Did you know that loneliness?</em>”</p><p class="p1">Liza was not looking to break him as the officers had. She was reaching out into the emptiness and hoping he knew the solitude too. He did. “<em>I was alone. I am alone. Liza you must be better. At the top you do not have friends and family unless you fight for them. I had Luchenko because he was not interested in killing me, but your opponents will not always be this way. Do not let yourself continue to be alone.</em>” He did the unthinkable. He took her hand.</p><p class="p1">The skin on her palm was un-calloused and her fingers trembled as they wrapped around his own hand. Her knuckles popped with overuse, a badge of honor for a chess player. “<em>I have Jolene and Townes and Harry and Benny,</em>” he couldn’t help his grip spasming at that name, “<em>I have people but I–</em>“ She stops herself.</p><p class="p1">They are on a precipice now. Teetering between sin and salvation. How easy it would be to dive with her into the future. He’s not sure which it would be, the heaven or hell.</p><p class="p1">Neither of them continues. The match is a draw. For a time they simply live in their game, letting the unsaid words settle.</p><p class="p1">Liza goes back to America the next day.</p><p class="p1">As she flies back to her life, he revisits the folder in his desk. Her file is woefully ill informed. She is so much more.</p><p class="p1">…</p><p class="p1">“<em>Oh, and I went where you recommended. I played the men in the park. They did not seem to like me as much, but at your name they were pleased.</em>”</p><p class="p1">“<em>You are not as friendly as I. How is Moscow? And Luchenko?</em>”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Quiet. I will be going back to St. Petersburg soon. You would like it, I think. He is well, grandchildren too. How is Kentucky?</em>”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Busy. Warm. I think I might like St. Petersburg. I’ll be seeing Jolene soon but she’s busy with law school now. Townes and his friend have moved into an apartment and he’s done lots of writing.</em>”</p><p class="p1">“<em>And Benny?</em>”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Benny is in New York. He is…he’s in New York. It’s a very far way away.</em>”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Not as far as some places.</em>”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Perhaps.</em>”</p><p class="p1">When the dial tone echoes through the kitchen, she feels empty. Somehow over the phone, their conversations felt stilted. Distant. Liza–when did she start thinking of herself as Liza?–decides she’d rather be sitting a board’s length across from him. She’s been missing the delightfully cold streets of Moscow. But the man she thinks of now as Vasya and not Borgov, he is not in Moscow. She’s never been to St. Petersburg, why is she thinking of it as home?</p><p class="p1">…</p><p class="p1">If Vasya is worried her government is tapping her phone, he does not say so. She tells him she misses the cold. He tells her that she would be welcome here. She asks how that would be possible. The conflict between their countries is not insignificant. “Chess” is all he says.</p><p class="p1">From then on, Liza makes plans. Jolene calls her a crazy white cracker instead of just a cracker. But she smiles and says there are still phones, still letters, still ways to visit. She asks if Liza loves him. Liza does not know how to answer such a question. She does tell her that she loves Russia and for now, that will have to be enough. Benny and Harry and Townes seem to understand as well. Benny makes her promise to look for him when she inevitably goes on tournaments and Townes just smiles and gives her a hug.</p><p class="p1">She arrives in St. Petersburg and settles into the flat she’d arranged. Her neighbors upstairs are a sweet elderly couple who never had children and seem to adopt her right away. She’s always finding mothers, isn’t she. Across the hall, a pretty young girl who was working in the ballet. Downstairs, a middle-aged couple with three young children. For a few weeks she lets herself adjust to her home. She’d made contact with some of the Russian government agents who assured her that she would be welcome here for the rest of her life. Having another grandmaster was a blessing.</p><p class="p1">Liza had gone through changes before. She had prided herself on her ability to adjust to her environment. As she spent her first few weeks living in Russia, she made a decision. Here, as Liza, in this country, as World Champion, she would be her own. She would not be alone, but she would be her own. It was easy to make friends there. She loved the city, just as Vasya thought she would. She thought of him often. But Liza also thought of his wife and child.</p><p class="p1">By the end of the fourth week, she’d made her decision. She called Vasya. He was the one who picked up, which was somewhat of a relief. Liza told him she was in St. Petersburg and that she would like to meet, if that was alright. He agreed.</p><p class="p1">…</p><p class="p1">“<em>Liza, how at home you look!</em>” Vasya was grinning wide with his arms outstretched in an echo of the hug he’d given her after her win. This hug lasts longer, though.</p><p class="p1">“<em>Walk with me?</em>” This will only work if she’s moving, she knows. She would lose all resolve in his arms.</p><p class="p1">“<em>Of course.</em>” His smile remains but it’s concerned now too. “<em>This way, the canals will be beautiful.</em>”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Do you remember when I told you about mother? How her husband left her out of nowhere one day and it nearly broke her?</em>” She does not wait for his response. There is a way this must go. She has created this play, but she has also memorized it. This is the only way. “<em>And my mother, the way she tried to bring me to my father but it was too late. He’d found another family and had no use for me anymore?</em>” Liza wonders to herself if this should be more difficult. It is not difficult. This is simple, this is how the game must be played. “<em>And I, I made myself into something I wasn’t several times. I can’t do that again.</em>” Even this man who reached out in the dark wasn’t worth her entire soul. “<em>So here it is: I am going to live here. I am going to be Liza in this city and play chess and be happy and maybe I’ll find another dream too. I asked Georgi once, what would he do after he became world champion. He did not have an answer. I am looking for my answer.</em>”</p><p class="p1">Liza paused and turned to Vasya. “<em>I love you. I think that perhaps I have loved you since I saw you at the zoo and likely since we first had dinner all those months ago. I love you, but you are married and have a son. I am the world champion and I am trying to find my next dream which cannot be you unless I am yours. I don’t expect you to choose me, what I ask is a decision. I cannot slowly tear your family apart and I cannot give that much of myself away. I need one answer, one choice. You cannot have both queens.</em>”</p><p class="p1">Vasya was silent for a time. He watched her face and the sky. He watched the water and the children running along the curb. He looked down to her once more and with a closed face he said, “time. <em>I will need time.</em>” He leaves.</p><p class="p1">…</p><p class="p1">Vasya calls her new number two weeks later. She answers, breathless from the mad dash across the hall to get it in time.</p><p class="p1">“<em>Will you come to the canals? To talk?</em>”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Yes.</em>”</p><p class="p1">He does not smile when he sees her. Liza steels herself to the bad news that usually comes. She has prepared for this. It will be alright if he tells her what she dreads. Yet somehow, Liza feels her heart clench and not release.</p><p class="p1">“<em>My wife was a friend of mine before we were married. She was kind and interested enough in chess to spectate. When we were of the right age, it was suggested that we would make a good marriage. We were happy. Things were uncomplicated. I love my son and I love my wife. But my wife was my friend more than my love and my son is always my son. You will learn that The Party makes many decisions for its people. That is not always bad. You must work with them. </em></p><p class="p1">“<em>I am not going to be your new dream.</em>” Liza was not breathing. Traitorous tears slid down her cheeks despite herself. Vasya tipped her head to face him. “<em>Zvezda moya, your dream cannot be a person. You will find your next challenge. Liza Harmon, I am not going to be married to Katya anymore. I have made my choice, you are my choice. I would like to be with you for your next dream.</em>”</p><p class="p1">Liza wonders at the way of this world. This St. Petersburg and this game and this man, always like the perfect puzzle waiting to be solved. There will be time, she decides. Time for it all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>before you comment, please know this is something that was extremely personal to write and i haven't limited comments but if i need to i will. also, let me know if you think the rating should be changed, thank you for reading, i'm sorry for how bad it is</p></blockquote></div></div>
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